


oh hold me tight, won't you be mine tonight

by colazitron



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, M/M, rated mostly for some very mild grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22914769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: David is a little drunker than usual and it loosens his tongue.
Relationships: Matteo Florenzi/David (Druck)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 155





	oh hold me tight, won't you be mine tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallbump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbump/gifts).



> written for the prompt "drunken confession and almost kiss"
> 
> also for smallbump. love ya, babe.

“Matteo!” David cheers, loud and exuberant and with a grin that seems to split his face and light it up more brightly than the neon paint swiped over his cheeks. It's rubbed off some, but Matteo can still make out the stripes Kiki meticulously painted on for him, bright yellow and green and orange. They glow under the blacklight, though not as brightly as the white of David's teeth and eyes or the pattern on his otherwise black shirt.

He's easy to spot in a crowd tonight, not least of all because he's got both arms thrown up and is making his way towards Matteo in a more or less straight line.

Matteo doesn't think he's ever seen David this drunk.

He isn't even that drunk, compared to some other people. He's not swaying unless someone bumps into him unexpectedly, his speech wasn't slurred last time Matteo talked to him half an hour ago, and he's still more or less coherent. He's just dialled up to eleven, wild and just a little reckless. But usually David doesn't even drink this much, so it's still a bit of a novelty.

“Why aren't you dancing?” he shouts as he gets closer, grabbing Matteo's hands to drag him back into the fray of hopping, bopping, grinding people. “You should be dancing, it's a party!”

Matteo laughs and lets David pull him away from the wall he was leaning on.

“I'm not a big dancer.”

“I am,” David beams. “I'll show you.”

Before Matteo can really say anything either way, David grabs him by the hips and pulls him in close, almost close enough to touch as he starts swaying side to side and making Matteo follow the same rhythm. Matteo's heart stutters, mouth falling open a little in surprise. His arms are hanging uselessly by his side and his whole body goes tense and unwieldy, accidentally fighting the motion David is trying to guide him into.

David only squeezes his hips more tightly and laughs.

“You need to loosen up!”

Matteo needs _a drink_ , but David won't let him get away, only taking his hands off Matteo's hips to take him by the wrists instead and pulling his arms up so his hands dangle down over David's shoulders.

“Come on, I know you can do better than this,” he says and puts his own hands back on Matteo's hips, giving him a joking shake before he starts moving them again.

Matteo takes a shuddery breath, trying to find anything in David's beaming face that might tell him what the fuck is happening, but David's only grinning at him. So Matteo exhales deeply and makes himself relax, lets his body follow the swaying motion of David's hands. He's not actually bad at rhythm, it's just the moving his body part of dancing that's foreign to him. With David guiding him like this it _is_ easier.

David laughs when he ups the tempo and Matteo fumbles again, taken by surprise and startled out of his rhythm, but it's easier to settle into it this time, even if he still can't look up from where their bodies are almost pressed together, where David keeps such tight hold of him. It's so close to something Matteo's used to not letting himself want it's making him dizzier than the flashing lights and the loud music and the beers he's had himself.

“See!” David says, a little more loudly than he'd need to given how close they are, and Matteo looks up at him automatically. “Not so bad, is it.”

It's not bad at all and neither is the way David's looking at him, a little tired and eyes half-lidded, half-hidden by the dark of the room except for the glowing white of them and the sparkle that never really seems to go away. Matteo feels like he could stare at him for hours and also like it'd probably take him that long to figure our what it is that's written into the corner of David's mouth when he looks like that, the slight furrow of his brow.

“It's good that you're dancing now,” he says, a lot more quietly than before. Matteo's not sure he was actually meant to hear it, but he can't help but laugh. He didn't think David was that offended by his not dancing, but the expression on his face says otherwise.

“Why's that?”

The frown on David's face deepens even more and his eyes fall down from Matteo's face, roaming over the rest of him, down to the hips David is still holding. He squeezes them again, and Matteo's pretty sure he's going to feel the phantom of that touch for an entire week.

And then David pulls him even closer, close enough to not only touch but end up pressed against each other tightly; thighs, hips, stomach all aligned. It's one gentle move that punches all the air out of Matteo's lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“You look good tonight,” David says, looking back up at Matteo's face.

Matteo makes some sort of strangled noise he wishes he could take back, but David doesn't even seem to realise. He hasn't stopped moving them both, though with their proximity it's now less swaying and decidedly closer to grinding. Matteo has absolutely no idea what's happening anymore, doesn't understand what one thing has to do with the other, heart hammering away in his chest and wondering if he's slipped and hit his head and dreamed this whole situation up.

“Someone else would've asked you to dance if you'd kept standing by yourself.”

“I thought you wanted me to dance.”

David's hands sweep up to Matteo's waist and then around his back, pulling them more firmly together so David can tip forward and rest his head against the side of Matteo's, cheeks pressed together.

“You're so cute, Matteo,” David says, voice pitched low like a secret. Like a confession. Matteo suddenly thinks that David might be drunker than he thought. “They would have tried to kiss you.”

Matteo's heart trips over itself and his hands ball up into fists behind David's back.

“Am I not allowed to kiss people?” he asks, trying to arrange all of these things David's saying in a way that makes sense. There's really only one conclusion to draw, but surely that's not--

David shakes his head, still pressed up against Matteo's and moving his with the motion. “I want you to kiss me.”

Matteo freezes, the slowing sway of his and David's bodies together halting as he pulls away just enough to be able to look at David. He has to see his face, has to meet his eyes and hear him say that, but David's gaze is stuck on Matteo's lips like he's caught in a honey trap.

“David,” Matteo says, tries to catch his attention, but it takes another thundering three, four heartbeats before David looks up to meet his gaze, a blazing kind of heat in them that makes Matteo feel like he's flown too close to the sun.

David's arms come up to wrap around his neck, one of his hands cupping the back of Matteo's head and pulling him in until their foreheads bump together, close enough to smell the traces of cologne and just a hint of sweat that clings to David's skin.

“Matteo,” he echoes. “I like you so much.”

“You do?”

Matteo's own hands fall to hold onto David's hips, their positions reversed now though Matteo's hold is far more tentative than David's was.

“So much.”

Matteo's cheeks feel like they're sure to be glowing as much as the neon paint and he can't help but grin.

“I like you too.”

The smile that breaks out over David's face makes Matteo's knees actually weak, excitement swooping in his belly and making him feel like he's going to swoon right into David's arms like some fucking 18th century damsel. He doesn't, but it's a near thing when David tilts his head, eye lids heavy over his eyes, lips falling open as he leans in. It feels like they're moving in slow motion, the bob of his own Adam's apple almost torturous as he swallows heavily, David's breath hot and damp where it bounces off his lips, smelling just a little of beer but not enough to make Matteo worry.

This isn't a drunk thing.

This is real.

The feeling of some of his own hair trapped between their foreheads, David's nose grazing against his, his hand at the back of Matteo's neck, the fabric of David's shirt bunching in his own hands as he holds on to his sides – it's all real, all glorious technicolor things for Matteo to feel. He swallows again, resists the urge to lick his lips because David is so close now that he can practically taste it.

And then David swerves and Matteo's lips brush his cheek instead of settling against David's own.

It's like a bucket of ice water dumped straight over Matteo's head; his heart plummeting into the soles of his feet, anxiety washing over him hot and cold, air catching in his tight throat when he tries to take a calming breath.

“I don't want to be drunk for our first kiss,” David says and pulls away, still beaming when he looks at Matteo. “I'm not that drunk, but I want to be not drunk at all. I want to be sober and awake and feel everything.”

Tomorrow, or the day after that maybe, Matteo is going to mercilessly make fun of David for being the hugest sap the world has ever known.

Right now, he takes a deep, relieved breath, and counts to three so he won't scream in his face.

David's still grinning at him, bright and sparkling, and Matteo cant' help but laugh, looking at he guileless joy on David's face. He takes a step back and takes one of David's hands, taking a moment to appreciate the way it feels to tangle their fingers together, to feel the way David squeezes his hand back, before he tugs on his arm to make him follow.

“Okay. Fuck. Then let's get you some water, drunkie.”

“I'm not that drunk,” David protests immediately, but he follows Matteo into the kitchen without complaint and drinks the entire glass of water Matteo hands him in one go.

It feels different here in the light of the kitchen, the music just a little removed, no other people here right now except for them. Less like a fever dream and more solid. Like something Matteo can take hold of with both hands, something he doesn't have to be afraid will vanish the moment he tries to reach for it again.

He knows the answer to his question before he asks, but he does it anyway, a grin curling around his lips too.

“Sober yet?”

David laughs, eyes sparkling with mirth and shakes his head. “Not yet. I think we should go dance some more.”

Matteo sighs like it's a chore, but lets David take his hand again and pull him back out into the living room. They find a place amongst the bodies of friends and flatmates and people they've never met before tonight, curling around each other more easily with every time they do it. Matteo's not sure the feeling of David's hands on his body is ever going to be any less exciting, but he knows it's going to feel less foreign, can already feel it happening every time they touch.

David pulls him in close again and Matteo comes easily, answering his grin with one of his own and letting him guide them into a rhythm that almost matches the music. They sway with their foreheads pressed together and their smiles not quite touching.

There's a laugh stuck in Matteo's throat because they're being ridiculous and a thrill in the pit of his belly for what's going to happen – soon, but not too soon. He's wished for this for a while, but this is an altogether different feeling; knowing it's going to happen and anticipating it instead of only dreaming about it in half-shameful fantasies.

Matteo isn't one to deny himself pleasures, but if David wants to play this game, he can play. It'll be worth the wait. In the end he's pretty sure they're both going to win.

**The End**


End file.
